Epilogue

Bohdi

W atching Brayden win is an experience that cannot be explained. It's the one time he sheds all worries, becoming unbelievably carefree on the ice. Seeing his happiness in those moments, it's what I live for.

Among the roaring crowd, a voice pierces through,

"Who's number 13? He's hot as fuck." My head whips around so fast I fear I might strain a muscle. The boy, wide-eyed, stares at me.

"He's mine," I growl, my tone low and possessive, and the boy's eyes widen even more as he nods frantically. As I turn around, I'm taken aback to see Bray, his eyes blazing with intensity as he stares at me, skating furiously toward the bench. He rips off his helmet, letting it skid across the ice. He crashes through the small gate, shoving his teammates aside with raw determination. He bounds up the steps, vaulting over the small gate. My heart races as his hands seize my head, and he crushes his lips against mine with a fierce passion.

In front of everyone—the cameras, the gasping crowd, and the mingled cat calls and whistling. Our relationship wasn't hidden, but it wasn't flaunted either, thanks to the agreement I made with the college when I left. We'd keep it under wraps until Brayden graduated. They didn't want the news getting out and tarnishing their reputation.

Brayden thrives on breaking rules; it's in his DNA. And in this moment, to hell with the college, to hell with everyone.

Our tongues tangle, the noise around us fading into echoes. All that matters is him and me. With every kiss, he unravels me, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

"We fucking won, Boh," he whispers against my lips.

"You were fucking amazing out there, Brayden."

"Did you see that goal from Kal, Boh? Oh my god, it has to be the goal of the season." His eyes go wide with excitement as I smile, my insides doing flips at how excited he is right now.

"I'm sure it was," I mumble, my smile widening as I take in how happy Bray is at this moment.

His eyes go wide in disbelief. "Please tell me you saw his insanely good goal?"

"I didn't."

"What, Bohdi? How? Kal was battling it out with two D-man. How did you not see that stick flick with the puck and straight through the two"—he emphasizes two—" two D-man's legs and the goalies? What were you doing? Was you not watching the game?" his brows furrow.

"Bray, when you play, it may as well only be you on that ice. You're all I see out there."

His cheeks flame red as his eyes flick up to my hat. Number 13's biggest fan and then his eyes move down to my jersey. I smirk and turn around.

"Number 13's biggest fan." He laughs, his smile brighter every time I see it.

"I love making you smile." I gently press a kiss to his lips and then "We Will Rock You" blares through the speakers on the stadium. With wide eyes, Brayden laughs as he gazes round at the crowd who all point down at him, singing the lyrics.

"Did you start the song?" Brayden's eyes flutter as he looks up at me, his hair tussled as sweat runs down his face.

I smile, nodding. "Kal came skating over and told me what happened, so I started singing it at the top of my voice. Obviously me on my own wouldn't do much, but then Kal began singing it to the crowd, trying to rile them up, and one by one, everyone joined in. I even saw some of Frostbites fan singing it."

"Fuck, I love you." Brayden's lips smack against mine one more time. I pull back, excitement flooding through me as I tell him.

"Listen up," I smile, leaning in close. "Get showered and changed. I'm taking you somewhere."

He frowns, eyebrows knitting. "What about the team? The celebrations?"

I expected this. Would he rather party with his teammates? But once he knows the surprise, he'll thank me for dragging him away.

"Trust me," I assure him. "You'll have your late celebrations with them when we're back."

His frown deepens. "Back from where?"

"It's a surprise. Now hurry up." I grin, even though his questions linger. He backs away, teammates gathering around him, all smiles and laughter. Their joy is contagious.

Denny stands there, bright-eyed, smiling with his teammates. I approach the wall separating us from the benches. His eyes lock onto mine, and his smile vanishes.

"Bohdi." He nods, gaze shifting back to the players filtering down the tunnel.

"Den, can I talk to you?" I ask. Den huffs, walking over. Fans surround us, clapping Denny on the back. He smiles at them, but it's strained.

"Congratulations." I offer a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks," he grumbles. "Look." Denny raises his hand. "Kal already told everyone about your plans for Brayden. I know he won't be celebrating. But I'm sure he'll love your surprise."

His words sound robotic, as if we haven't been friends since freaking school.

"Don't be like this," I say, wincing. His eyes bore into mine. He hasn't answered my calls. I've tried going round to him, but his wife tells me he isn't ready to talk to me. We're grown men, for Christ's sake.

"You were my best friend. I trusted you, Boh. Brayden isn't some damn project for you to fix."

I reel back. "What the hell do you mean, project?"

"You're a fixer, Boh. Always have been. Moving here? It was your escape from grief, from yourself. You found someone who needed fixing, channeled all your pain into him. It didn't matter who—it was your lifeline."

His words stab like glass, tearing through my heart. "You think Brayden's just someone I want to fix?" My voice cracks. "I fucking love that boy. I don't know how I survived without him."

"Well, he wasn't born when we were in college, Boh. Maybe that's how."

"Fuck you, Denny. Screw your stuck-up views. I don't care what anyone thinks. Brayden's mine, and I'll make him happier than any damn college kid could."

"Keep telling yourself that." Denny walks off, leaving me raw. His words echo, but all I can think is I wonder if that is what people think.

Well, there's nothing I love doing more than proving people wrong.

In the car, Brayden buzzes in his seat with excitement. "Please, can you tell me where we're going?" His eyes move to the backseat as he stares at our suitcases again. "I can't believe you packed for me," he mutters. "Did you include some hats? You know I can't go without my hats."

I chuckle. "And I love seeing you in those hats."

Brayden's eyes darken, no doubt remembering the other night when he was naked, and I went and put one of his beanies on his head as I fucked him over the arm of the couch. Something about Brayden in a beanie or a baseball cap does something to me and my dick.

In the moments after we pull up at the airport, Brayden's grin is intoxicating. I know he's never been on a plane before; every away game, they took the school coach, even if it meant hours of driving. But a few months back, I told him that Cash and Rylee wanted us to visit them once the season finished. He already asked me earlier if that's where we were going. I grinned, making him think it could be, but it's not.

"We need to hurry; we're a bit late," I say as we grab our suitcases from the luggage carousel. Inside the airport, the departure screen displays Chicago . His eyes light up.

"I've never been to Chicago," he grins, his smile bright. I think he's going to figure it out because yes, it says Chicago, but there's also another name underneath it.

"Chicago is just the layover." I grin, pointing back to the screen. His eyes dance over the display, then widen. Tears line his eyes, and I clench my jaw to stop myself from getting emotional.

"London?" he gasps. I nod, swiping under his eye before the tear falls.

"London," I smile.

"Boh." His voice cracks.

"Please don't cry, Bray. Two men can't stand in an airport crying." I chuckle.

"I can't believe it. You're taking me to London." His eyes move to the screen again, as if it's playing tricks on him.

"I want you to experience it all—for Bexley," I say, pulling a small bag from my carry-on. "I brought you this." I pass it to him, and he frowns down at it as he unwraps it. "It's a new diary. Write messages to Bex while we're on this trip, and when we're back, sit with him and tell him all about it."

Brayden chokes on a sob, trying to swallow it, but the tears fall free, dropping onto the diary in front of him.

"Boh, I really do love you. Thank you," he whispers quietly, leaning up to kiss me gently on the lips.

Kissing his forehead, I whisper, "Let's go make some memories."

Eighteen hours and two delays later, and we finally touch down in London. Once we ordered an Uber to the hotel, we basically crashed into the bed and fell asleep in our clothes, not waking until one in the afternoon, UK time.

It wasn't the best start but thankfully I booked the main event for tomorrow. At least today we get to explore a bit. I booked a hotel in the city of London, so at least we are near to everything. I did a lot of research and Cash was able to tell me where to go and what's worth seeing as he's been here a handful of times.

"This is what you have been excited about since we woke up?" Brayden stares up at the blue sign in front of us.

"Hey, I have been told by more than one person that this place has some of the best food in London."

"Greggs? Who names a food shop fucking Greggs?" Brayden's clearly suffering from slight jet lag. He's grouchy when he's tired.

"Let's just go in." I sigh, dragging him in with me.

We sat in, and the fact Brayden went up to the counter six times, to order six sausage rolls. I think it's safe to say he likes it.

"OK, I get it," he says, mouth of pastry and sausage.

"Good, huh?" I smile, biting into a sausage and bean cheese melt. Honestly, it sounded horrible, but I promised Cash I would try it and boy was he right. It's fucking amazing.

"So, what's the plan?" Brayden eyes up the counter again.

"No more sausage rolls, that's what. Where the hell do you put it?" I eye him up.

"I can show you." His lazy gaze tracks me up and down slowly, pushing his leg out so I brush against mine.

"Stop," I grit, standing up as my dick starts to go semi-hard behind my tight jeans. Brayden stands up, following me out of the shop.

"Tonight, you best fuck me. I want to know what it's like being fucked in London while looking out my window and staring at Big Ben." He grins and starts to walk off. Now all I have in my head in Brayden bent over with me buried in his tight ass.

"We are making a pit stop at the hotel." I grab his arm, dragging him toward the hotel, my dick now painfully hard.

OK, the vacation hasn't consisted of as much sightseeing as I thought, and we only have five more days here. We had a walk around London yesterday, after spending two hours in the hotel fucking the life out of Brayden. After that we were both exhausted and ended up having a daytime nap. We then woke up at ten at night. We haven't grasped the time difference yet.

But today is the main reason I booked this vacation. I had to set my alarm because at eleven, I booked tickets for Brayden to go to the London Eye. I know he needs to do this, and he mentioned it to me on the plane.

The London Eye looms before us, its massive wheel casting shadows against the bright sky. Brayden's eyes widen as we approach the queue.

"Oh my god," he murmurs, "it's so much bigger in person and high—really fucking high." Standing near the entrance, I retrieve the ticket from my pocket and hand it to him.

"I know you're afraid of heights," I say softly. "But you need this. Do it for Bexley." His eyes meet mine, sunlight dancing on his face. "You brought us tickets?" he asks.

"I bought you a ticket," I clarify. "I won't be joining you. This is your journey, Bray. Take it all in, write it down, and read it back to Bexley someday." I cup his cheeks. "I'll be waiting right here when you finish. And I've arranged for you to have a pod all to yourself."

"It's really high," he stammers, doubt evident.

"You can do it," I whisper. "For Bex."

His voice trembles. "For Bex."

"Take this with you." I pass Bray a plastic bag. "Open it once you're up there."

And with that, he turns away, walking onto the platform, ready to enter the pod.